The days were growing cold and the nights colder, but a fine big fire was blazing before them, and they rejoiced in the warmth and brightness, shed from the flames and the heaps of glowing coals.
"I'll venture the prediction," said Pennington, "that our next march is not against an army, but against guerrillas.

They say that up there in the Alleghanies Slade and Skelly are doing a lot of harm.

They may have to be hunted out and the Winchester men have the best reputation in the army for that sort of work.

We earned it by our work against these very fellows in Tennessee." "For which most of the credit is due to Sergeant Whitley," said Dick.
"He's a grand trailer, and he can lead us with certainty, when other regiments can't find the way." Dick gazed westward beyond the dim blue line of the Alleghanies, and he knew that he would feel no surprise if Pennington's prediction should come true.

The nest of difficult mountains was a good shelter for outlaws, and the Winchesters, with the sergeant picking up the trail, were the very men to hunt them.
He knew too that, unless the task was begun soon, it would prove a supreme test of endurance, and there would be dangers in plenty.